The Tudor Conspiracy - Gortner Christopher W. - Страница 57

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“Take it off.” I kept my expression neutral, as if we exchanged news such as two servants in our positions would.

She started to reach to her throat for the clasp. Then she stopped. “Why do you want it now? I offered it to you before in Hatfield and you refused it.”

“Kate, please. There is no time to explain.”

“You cannot do whatever it is you’re thinking,” she said. “It’s a key to your past, your true identity; it could reveal that you have royal blood.”

“No one would know that except the queen. It could be our only chance. Kate, drop it and go. Don’t ask me more questions; don’t seek me out again. Whatever happens, you must stay with Her Grace. I am fighting for all our lives.”

I started to turn away as she fumbled at her neckline, searching within her bodice. “I thought you trusted me,” she whispered. She whirled about, her departure leaving me desolate. I could not think of it. I must focus only on what I had to do.

Bending down as if to check my boot, and taking advantage of the guards’ catcalling distraction as Kate went past them to enter the manor, I retrieved the chain with its dangling ruby-tipped leaf, which she’d left on the snowy ground.

To the crack of whips, gusts of wind lifting snow in whirlwinds off the road, we departed Ashridge. A storm had rolled in; though the actual snowfall was light, the wind cut through our wool cloaks like teeth. Mistress Parry had tried in vain to gain us another day, cajoling Lord Howard that should anything befall the princess under such inclement weather it would be on his head. He remained adamant. Elizabeth had been pronounced fit to travel; barring a catastrophe, he’d rather risk the weather than the queen’s wrath.

I’d scarcely caught a glimpse of Elizabeth when they brought her from her rooms, swathed in furs, her swollen face averted as they set her inside the cushioned litter. Guards surrounded her. The litter curtains were drawn. There wasn’t a moment to exchange a word with her, and even if there had been I was relegated to the vanguard with the carts and servants, while Mistress Ashley, Blanche Parry, and Kate rode beside her.

We proceeded in slow stages. The litter jostled on the pitted road, and Elizabeth called for several stops along the way, complaining of discomfort and forcing Lord Howard to attend her. She prolonged the inevitable, determined to extend what should have been a daylong trip into as much time as she could. By dusk, with London still hours away, Howard had no choice but to order a halt. We would spend the night in a nearby manor, where the owners, apprised without warning of our arrival, arranged accommodations as best they could, giving up their own bedchamber for the princess.

The next morning, we took to the road at first light. This time, Elizabeth’s litter curtains remained closed the entire way, and she did not raise a single protest. Lord Howard rode flinty-eyed beside her, her ladies behind him. From my position in the back, I strained to see Kate. She’d taken my advice to heart; not once did she turn to look at me.

Under a sunset that smeared crimson across the lead sky, we reached the city gates.

Everything was transformed, the poisonous suspicion of the past weeks having burst open to reveal its rotten fruit. On the gates hung the torn limbs of Wyatt’s rebels. Their blood dripped onto the road, where dogs snarled at each other and lapped the congealed pools. Gibbets loomed like specters at every corner, adorned with gutted naked bodies, stiff and blackening. It was the expected punishment for treason, but as the smell of death invaded my senses, the impact of what we faced threatened to overwhelm me.

This time, I feared the queen would take all our heads.

Houses and businesses were closed tight, doors bolted and shutters drawn, though it was not yet dark. Only a few people roamed the streets, and as soon as they spotted our procession, hemmed by men-at-arms, they dashed indoors, furtive as mice. Yet as word somehow spread that it was none other than Princess Elizabeth making her entrance, a small, brave crowd gathered along the road to Whitehall-a sea of silent stares, their stunned expressions bearing testament to the unexpected violence that had swept through their city. I saw Howard tighten his grip on his reins, looking pointedly at the princess’s litter, as if he expected an eruption.

All of a sudden, the curtains whisked back. Elizabeth revealed herself reclining on her bolster, her drawn features offset by a high-necked white gown. Her hair was unbound. In breathtaking symbolism, she wore a necklace of dark square-cut rubies about her throat. As she returned the crowd’s stares with her impassive dark eyes, several women curtsied and one lone man called out, “God save Your Grace!”

Howard motioned to the guards. Before they surrounded the litter, impeding the view, Elizabeth shot him an amused look. Despite her fear, she had not lost her bite.

Kate finally dared a look at me as Whitehall appeared before us, protected by cordons of sentries, less a palace now than a fortress. Her gaze was questioning; though she rode only paces away, it felt as though an impassable chasm separated us.

We passed under the main archway. Elizabeth sat upright, stiffening as she looked ahead. The procession passed a knot of officials, watching warily from behind guards. We did not stop. We continued on, through a stout gateway, into an enclosed courtyard where yeomen with halberds, dressed in the green-and-white Tudor livery, waited.

Howard dismounted and assisted Elizabeth from her litter. As she yanked her furs about her, the guards’ perfunctory bows brought an angry crease to her brow. “Is this to be my reception?” she demanded. “Where shall I lodge, pray tell? In a dungeon?”

“Your Grace will lodge in specially appointed apartments selected for you,” Howard replied. “These yeomen are here to escort you. You’re allowed the services of your three women; all others of your household are dismissed.”

“Dismissed?” Her voice frayed. “Surely you can’t mean to deprive me of these people on whom I depend?” Howard did not answer. Lifting her chin, Elizabeth said loudly, “I demand to see my sister the queen! I demand audience with Her Majesty, who cannot-”

The yeomen shifted to her. Taking in their stance, she went still. Mistress Ashley and Blanche Parry hastened to her; all of a sudden, the understanding that she was truly at Mary’s mercy must have struck her, for she pivoted back to Howard. “I beg you, my lord, if only for the family ties between us.” She set a gloved hand on his sleeve. “At least permit me the services of my squire. My travel chest is heavy. He must carry it for me.”

It was an ineffectual excuse, concocted of sheer desperation; Howard must have realized it. Any one of those brawny yeomen could see to her traveling chest, but he looked as if he were actually considering it. His gaze lifted to where I stood by Cinnabar. Kate had also gone immobile by her mare, hooded and cloaked, as if uncertain what to do.

“No men,” Howard intoned. “My orders are clear. Only Your Grace’s women.”

“Please, my lord,” Elizabeth implored. “He’s but a servant. What harm can he do?”

“Plenty,” said Howard curtly, “if he’s the same man I think he is.”

He knew who I was. He had known all along. Could he actually be abetting me?

I dropped the reins and went to him. “My lord,” I said, “Her Grace is ill. Surely she merits this consideration.” My voice lowered. “It could be that one day she will find herself in a better position to reward your compassion.”

His mouth worked. As I surmised, Lord William Howard was no sycophant. He had defended London, putting himself in harm’s way to protect the throne. He had his honor to uphold. My appeal must have stirred his already conflicted conscience, for he nodded once, tersely. “He may assist. But after that, he must depart. I cannot,” he added, a hint of apology in his tone, “gainsay the queen. If I earn her reproof, how can I be a friend to Your Grace?”

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